[ Before the next candidate gets up, Stiles makes his decision. He comes up from behind the crate in a scramble of limbs, and calls out: ]
Dude, you're making it look like you don't even want a drift partner. No wonder you're not gonna find anyone to empathize with you. [ Secretly, his heart is pounding, because Stiles sure did just out himself to the entire crowd--to his dad, who's hanging around in the back, he knows he is--but he holds his ground, taking a couple steps down from the stairs so he's just one outside the ring.
Laura's eyebrows shoot up, and she looks at John, then elbows Cora. That's her boyfriend's protege. ]
[ John stays right where he is, peering over the top of the crate and at Stiles, then Derek as his attention snaps to him, then back to his protege again. Oh yeah, this is gonna be interesting. He doesn't know either, Laura. They had done so well, hiding him from his father-- and he can see where the man is, from where he's given a cursory scan over the crowd-- and here, Stiles was exposing himself.
The Hale sisters have identical looks on their faces, and Cora gently pushes her hand against Laura's elbow to keep her from nudging at her again. She's not quite sure what to make of this, but she looks at their brother and...
Is surprised, actually. Derek looks at Stiles for a long moment in silence, before he slips his foot beneath the abandoned staff from his last opponent. Bunting it up and catching it, he inclines his head towards him. ] You want to give it a shot?
[ Stiles probably should have expected that to happen. The room falls dead silent for a moment, and he doesn't take his gaze off of Derek's as the rational part of his brain decides to check out for the day, and Stiles shucks off his sweatshirt and over shirt, kicking off his shoes and stepping into the arena.]
Depends, are you gonna give me a chance, or not? [ There's a vague challenge to his words, because Stiles' temper gets him into ridiculous situations like this all the time; when accompanied by his wit, razor sharp at worst, he ends up doing a lot of ridiculous shit he wasn't prepared for. Picking up the other staff, Stiles tosses it up and down experimentally, gives it a spin....and very nearly beans himself in the face.
Great.
Laura winces for the poor kid, and shakes her head at both Cora and John; this is gonna be brutal. ]
[ Cora immediately murmurs a the kid's dead under her breath to Laura, even before he nearly brains himself. The look she shoots her sister pretty much confirms exactly what she says, before she looks back at the arena and the pair within it. It's no surprise the marshal is allowing this to happen, considering that's just who he is, but... well, she hopes he doesn't die.
Shrugging helplessly, John does too. He likes Stiles. ]
If you don't knock yourself out first. [ Derek's tone is dry, expression neutral before he takes the staff and directs it to where Stiles is holding onto his own. It comes as just as much of a surprise as his initial comment did. ] Slide your hand down.
[ Why yes, he did just give him a pointer, before he spins with far more success and less possible concussions. ]
[ Stiles was not expecting that, and neither was most of the crowd. Feeling a little bit like an idiot, he slides his hand down, getting a firmer grip on the staff, and settles into a fighting position. He knows this much--knows tactics, knows a few moves from dicking around with his best friend and self defense with his cop father--but can he actually hold his own in a fight?
Yeah, no, Stiles is dead. He's agreeing.
Laura folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows at her brother. That's unusual, to say the absolute least; if she didn't know better, Laura would say he's interested in this kid. John had picked him for a reason, and it wasn't his fighting skills.
Well, time to put up or shut up.
Stiles, thinking the about same thing, looks at Derek, rocks back and forth, and pushes off his feet, aiming for the ribs. ]
[ Cora remembers when Paige died, same as everyone else, despite being pretty young compared to Laura and John and even her brother. And she remembers what her brother was like, before she did. This rings a little more true of it, actually opting to be helpful even in a situation where he'd benefit from the opposite. And that idea hurts a little, but she watches attentively, eyes narrowed.
Considering Stiles almost thoughtfully, despite the overall neutral expression, Derek sees a lot of openings in his stance. Things that could be changed. And he makes note of them, before taking his own stance, at least satisfied that his hold on the staff is better.
But as he comes at him, he moves and brings his own staff around, bringing it down to pin the end of Stiles' into the mat. But he taps the end into the side of Stiles' head, rather than immediately knocking him on his ass. ] Don't go for an opening that leaves you open.
[ Holy shit, Derek's fast. Stiles isn't really surprised--he shouldn't be, really, because it's Derek freakin' Hale, and sure enough, he rattles the pole hard enough that it jams down into the ground and Stiles jerks forward with it, down into a crouch and makes a grunting noise. He lifts his gaze to stare at Derek for a second, shocked.
Derek's helping him, though, and that? That's just weird. Stiles isn't going to let him take time to readjust, not while he can hear the Marshal's slightly smug "one point" in the background. The chances of him winning this are absolutely zero, but he's going to try his damndest anyway. Brown eyes are quick, calculating, and suddenly he uses the force from getting up into his crouch to sweep the pole across Derek's ankles, dropping lower to the ground to get more force behind the push. He's smaller than Derek, lighter, but if he can knock him off his feet, that doesn't matter so much, now does it?
Laura's jaw drops, and she's pretty much glued to the mat, for more reasons than one. Did that--any of that actually just happen? ]
[ There's the quiet knowledge in the back of his head that leaves Derek very much aware that the crowd is completely silent now, compared to the earlier wincing and commentary that came earlier. And he knows the cause of it, but he doesn't pay any attention to it. Just focuses on Stiles, watching him with green-gold eyes.
Cora scoots over a little as John weasels his way through the crowd and slots himself between her and Laura, grinning like a lunatic as she has an identical look to her sister. What.
And then there's the fact that Stiles manages to sweep Derek's feet out from beneath him. He doesn't bother trying to catch himself-- he's not going to windmill-- and it leaves his back hitting the mat with a heavy thud, but at least he keeps his head from bouncing when he lands.
Silence prevails a little longer, broken by a small chorus of holy shit, and then-- ] That was better.
[ The crowd isn't the only one shocked by what happened. Stiles had scrambled back up to his feet when Derek started to fall, and he had the staff in his face, panting a little, and staring at him intensely, like he hasn't snapped out of whatever the hell just happened--like his whole world's still focused on Derek.
It's then that the marshal, who'd boredly been staring at his nails, speaks up, and you can just hear the quirk of a grin in his voice-- ] Point.
[ --and Stiles snaps out of it, shock registering in his features because holy shit did that work, before he steps back a little, breaking into an unabashed grin as he tries to move back into the same fighting position, getting his staff ready.
Laura, meanwhile, will just be over here, trying to hide a smile, her hand over her mouth. Things just got interesting. She does lean to John and mumble, "Did you pick him for his fighting skills?" ]
[ Smoothly propelling himself back up to his feet once Stiles is snapped free of his focus, Derek ignores the tone of his uncle's voice as he dusts himself off. He bunts the staff back into his hand again with his foot, spinning it before snapping it parallel to his forearm, tucking it close to his ribs as he takes a fighting stance again himself.
He's essentially ignoring everyone outside of the mat, including the only remaining members of his family. His attention is, actually, completely and entirely on Stiles as he observes him. ] Again.
[ Cora also chooses to ignore family, letting Laura and John whisper to each other as she tries to assess the researcher, eying him as if it'll tell her all about him. Who the hell is this kid and what is Derek seeing?
"He has absolutely no coordination in the lab," is all John murmurs back to Laura, head bowed in towards her but eyes on his protege and grin still intact. ]
No, shit, sherlock, it's a four four match. [ But that just sounds like an aside, and Stiles takes another step forward, the staff turning in his hands; this part he knows, that it's useless without momentum, that the physics behind it are what separates this from being a kid fighting with a really big stick.
So this time, he goes low again, solar plexus instead of the ribs, thinking weak spots; any and all skills he has are A) learned from movies or B) learned self defense from his dad. That doesn't mean he's the greatest at applying himself, and he continues to leave himself open--but damn, he's trying, he's picking up, watching Derek move and trying to learn from it.
Laura snorts and mutters, "Most likely none out there, either.", because that had to be dumb luck. Didn't it? There was something weird about this kid, like...like there was a chance that something could happen. If he was less...Stiles about it. ]
[ Rolling his eyes, Derek snorts faintly as he keeps a close watch on him. The impulse to snap out brilliant deduction, Watson is bitten back as he focuses on what he's doing, his movements. He has an idea of the practice, but not quite how to execute it himself.
As he comes forward again, he brings his staff around to deflect. But instead of pinning him to the mat like before, he blocks, pushes to redirect, hooks their staffs together and turns. It might seem, at first, that he's trying to force the staff out of Stiles' hands.
Not so. He uses his moment and superior size to pivot Stiles up and over his back so that he lands on the mat.
John winces, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hold in a laugh before a muffled, "Yeah, no, not really," leaves him. But there's something here, because he can see Stiles analyzing, he knows the look. But Derek... Derek is analyzing, too. ]
[ Stiles grunts when he meets his strikes, starting to get more and more into it--he's trying, learning, adapting, and holds on for dear life, then throws a surprisingly quick strike at him, and for a minute, Stiles thinks he's got him again.
But then his entire world is upending, and the next sensation Stiles gets is the wind getting knocked out of him as he's left blinking owlishly at the ceiling. Holy shit, ow.
But what was his advantage last time? Being small. Stiles pushes himself up as quick as he can, and when he rushes at him again, he's looking for weak spots. It doesn't feel like he's fighting; the stilted awkwardness is fading, a little, when he responds to Derek's movements, trying to find his openings.
To say he ends up losing his first match is kind of an understatement. He doesn't stand a chance. At least not yet.
Laura's got her eyes covered by the first one, and she's peeking through them. So much for that... ]
[ Stiles is fast, has an eye for where he needs to go. It's just a matter of closing himself off, covering his weak points or finding a way to counter Derek's counters to keep them moving. To the onlookers, it seems like he's figuring it out but failing in four quick points, but the ranger...
Well, he sees something different. He sees a spark, and he practically digs his teeth into it rather than letting it go.
The moment that the fourth point is called, he moves to the side of the mat that Stiles came in on, tapping the end of his staff into the padded surface as bare feet pad across. And then he turns, faces Stiles, and brings his staff around in both hands. He doesn't even bother voicing again, just looks at him and raises his brows. Prompting.
Even John's jaw drops a little, actually. Cora's eyes widen, head bobbing just slightly as her eyebrows raise in disbelief. ]
[ Well, so much for that bravado. Stiles grunts as he pushes himself off the ground for a fourth and final time. His ribs are bruised and he can feel his muscles already starting to ache; this isn't exactly lacrosse. But when Derek walks off, Stiles stares at him for a moment, and his world narrows back down to him again.
Stiles is supposed to step down, now. He's supposed to get up with his humiliated ego, slink off, and go back to the lab where he belongs. But when Derek turns to face him, Stiles looks at him with something intense in his amber brown eyes, and pulls himself to his feet.
Round two.
Laura voices it before anyone-a little "yess!" escapes her, and she pumps her first--and Peter rolls his eyes. You're kidding. ]
Derek. [ Comes his voice, anyway. ] While it's touching that you're taking on charity cases, it's time for an actual candidate.
No. [ Derek doesn't give a shit if his uncle is the marshal, he's dead set on this and it's obvious. Still, he adds, a little dryly: ] Sir.
[ And that's it. Everything is just the two of them again, and he routes all of his focus onto Stiles. He still doesn't move, letting him come forward first for now, ready for him-- this isn't just about seeing a candidate, it's about the potential he already sees, and what he wants to draw out. He makes the first move, he doesn't give Stiles the chance to grow.
Maybe in round three.
John bounces on his feet next to Laura, throwing his fists up in the air excitedly because holy shit. Cora is much more muted, hands covering her mouth as she watches, waiting. ]
[ All Peter does is stare flatly at Derek. His nephew's been stubborn since he was four years old and refusing to eat his vegetables. Its the other half that's surprising, that he's picked some useless kid to try and fight with, who's not even in the drift program and ergo not qualified to be a ranger, but whatever.
No one should ever say Peter Hale's not a saint.
Stiles' world is pretty much zeroed in on Derek at this point, and he picks up the staff again, testing in his hands. He comes forward with a shout and at him again, finding those weak spots, looking at the next move, the weaknesses Derek presented (there weren't any, really), and most of all, where he could find his advantages. Stiles isn't strong, but he's quick, and he's smart, and the next time he knocks Derek back, he doesn't waste his time celebrating--he does light up, though, and it's obvious. He's getting it. Slowly. And painfully.
Laura is pretty much two steps from whooping, because she can see it. She knows how this is going to end, and the smile on her face shows it as she reaches over and gives John's arm a little shake, like she can't believe it. Derek's going to find a drift partner. ]
[ Whatever looks Peter sends him, Derek doesn't notice them. All he notices is Stiles, and that's all that honestly matters right now. Because he's trying to figure this kid out, decide what that spark is even as he grips tight on it to keep it from going anywhere. It's...
Well, it's almost like Paige was. But there's so much more to it, and whoever Stiles is? There's a similarity, but he's different. Something else.
The researcher manages to get him twice, far better than before, but Derek gets him to the mat a fourth time before he has a chance to up his score. He leaves himself too open on one side, leaves him capable of hooking his staff around his ankle and literally tripping his feet out from underneath him. At least he knows better than to waste time celebrating, because then he wouldn't hesitate to send him face-first into the floor.
When he gets back up again, poised again, John clutches at Laura's arm back and rattles with her. On his other side, Cora has started to bounce a little, herself, mind still blown but. It's been years since Paige, and he's finally fighting again. ]
[ On the third time, Stiles is getting faster. The stick comes around his head at a forty five degree angle this time, and hits not Derek's ribs, or his stomach, but his wrist, where the strong grip on the pole is. It's hard, too, although Stiles' definition of a hard hit is considerably different than Derek's, but he ducks out of the way of the return strike, and before you know it, the score for the third run (as Peter so boredly calls out) is 4-3.
It feels less and less like work, even though his body's pounding, his head's aching and he can literally feel everywhere Derek's staff has hit him, every time he's hit the ground, he's still moving. It's practically weaving now--when Derek comes forward, he goes back and forth, under when he goes up, up when Derek goes down, and he keeps clacking their staffs together, defending himself, until they get locked together and he locks eyes with Derek, something fierce in his eyes, something in Derek's face he can't quite measure, before they scatter again.
By the time this is coming around, Laura's got kind of an iron grip on John's arm. Derek could get cold feet at any minute; she's literally holding her breath in anticipation.]
[ Considering how much harder Derek is hitting him now, as compared to earlier, his definition of a hard hit is infinitely different from Stiles'. But he's seeing if Stiles will keep getting up, if he'll keep fighting to keep the dialogue going, now that they've gotten it. It's not combat, it's a dance, and he's found a matching rhythm in someone that looks the least likely to ever step foot in a fucking Jaeger.
But when round four comes around, when they're matched at 3-3, because the waif of a boy has caught on and figured out something that works for him, he decides to put a quick end to it. But it's not in cold feet, or to try and shut Stiles down. Far from it, actually.
He sees where Stiles is moving, and moves into the strike, but at the same time brings his staff around to just barely tap it into Stiles' side.
John is actually silent, Cora forgets how to breathe, and Derek stares right back at Stiles, piercing green on bright brown. ] 4-4.
[ They're frozen like that for a moment; Stiles thought he'd seen his chance, that he was maybe going to win, but he knew, he knew that Derek was coming, he'd anticipated it, and when his strike lands at Derek's hip, he can feel Derek's tap him at the same time. They're ridiculously close, and even though he's panting like a dying man, there's something--exhilarating, and he doesn't move. He never once gave up, not the entire time. Never lost his ground, no matter how many times he got his ass kicked. The staff's pressed into Derek's side, just like his. They tied. No one's gotten that far with Derek yet.
No one else got an hour, either.
His mouth quirks up into a little grin, and then someone speaks up--Peter, a little drolly. ] Yes, yes, congratulations, it only took all afternoon. Are you done with this game? Because you've got ten more candidates to try out.
[ Rather than pull his staff away, Derek breathes heavy and seems to almost consider Stiles while they're up close, basically breathing in each other's space. Part of him doesn't want to move, because that would break whatever spell this is, even as he hears his uncle speak up. Yeah, he's not particularly surprised by that response, and he has a number of ways he could very well respond to it.
One of them is covered by Cora, actually, who lets out an "oh come on!" from where she's snapped out of her shock. But he just finally pulls his staff away from where they're positioned, slipping it away slow and easy.
He's been at this for the better part of the afternoon, but one hour made it worth the exhaustion. While he's managed to take down everyone that came before Stiles and keep them down, that doesn't mean he hasn't expended a lot of energy doing it. ]
If you want me to see to the rest of them, I can. [ He finally looks away from Stiles and to Peter, using his staff to gesture at the impromptu candidate. ] But I'm not going to pick any of them.
[ Stiles bursts into a grin as the spell's officially broken, his mouth dropping open before turning into a smile. In fact, that quickly gets followed by a hand running through his sweat soaked hair, looking more unbelieving than anything else, and when he throws his arms in the air with a whoo noise, extremely proud of himself, his legs promptly give out from exhaustion.
Still passed a test. Still is going to be a ranger. (Still going to be killed by his dad before he gets there.) Still is going to be a ranger with Derek Hale, because he wasn't fucking crazy, because Derek saw it too.
There was chemistry--dialogue--between them, the kind of thing that can't be replicated. Stiles can't fucking believe his luck, that he somehow managed to not die, that Derek apparently agreed, and he settles for a slightly less excited gesture because holy shit, now everything just hurts.
Laura claps vigorously and Peter stares at them both. Considers it. ]
It's your death wish. [ Then shrugs his shoulders and turns to leave. ]
[ A slight tick of a flinch pulls at the corner of Derek's eye at Peter, but it's typical behavior between Ranger Hale and Marshal Hale, at this point. Has been, for the longest time. Even when he and Paige were piloting together, there was his uncle.
But he turns his attention away from him and down to the pile of limbs that Stiles becomes, raising a brow in... what appears to be faint amusement, before he takes his staff and gently taps it on the top of his head before he moves to walk away and off the mat where his boots are. Faint teasing, after that dialogue. Cora is literally going to die from this afternoon, she swears to god. It would just be the final push if her brother smiled.
John does plenty of smiling and lunges into the mat, very nearly colliding with Stiles and-- ] Your father is going to kill you, Jesus fuck that was amazing.
Hrk-- [ Stiles makes a noise out of reflex and pushes himself back up onto his elbows, his gaze tracking over to Derek for just a second, falling on his retreating back before flicking to John again. He breaks into a smile again, the joy pretty much unbridled at the fact that he just did that, that all of that just happened. It's a rare good consequence of Stiles not being able to shut his mouth. ] Dude, I know, right! I might as well enjoy it, it's my last victory before my dad feeds me to a kaiju.
[ But before he can actually properly celebrate, he quirks kind of a half sheepish grin at John. ] IIiii'm not doing much celebrating yet, I guess.
...Can you help me up? [ His idea of celebrating is actually either sleeping forever or going to find Derek to talk to him about what just happened. Or something. Or maybe not? Stiles isn't even sure what he'd begin to say.
Laura, however, breaks free from John and hurries to her brother's side. She doesn't even say anything; just smiles at him, innocently ("innocently"), and folds her hands behind her back. ]
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if i can't type the accents on my special keyboard you know that shit's hard
Dude, you're making it look like you don't even want a drift partner. No wonder you're not gonna find anyone to empathize with you. [ Secretly, his heart is pounding, because Stiles sure did just out himself to the entire crowd--to his dad, who's hanging around in the back, he knows he is--but he holds his ground, taking a couple steps down from the stairs so he's just one outside the ring.
Laura's eyebrows shoot up, and she looks at John, then elbows Cora. That's her boyfriend's protege. ]
LMF P MUCH
The Hale sisters have identical looks on their faces, and Cora gently pushes her hand against Laura's elbow to keep her from nudging at her again. She's not quite sure what to make of this, but she looks at their brother and...
Is surprised, actually. Derek looks at Stiles for a long moment in silence, before he slips his foot beneath the abandoned staff from his last opponent. Bunting it up and catching it, he inclines his head towards him. ] You want to give it a shot?
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Depends, are you gonna give me a chance, or not? [ There's a vague challenge to his words, because Stiles' temper gets him into ridiculous situations like this all the time; when accompanied by his wit, razor sharp at worst, he ends up doing a lot of ridiculous shit he wasn't prepared for. Picking up the other staff, Stiles tosses it up and down experimentally, gives it a spin....and very nearly beans himself in the face.
Great.
Laura winces for the poor kid, and shakes her head at both Cora and John; this is gonna be brutal. ]
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Shrugging helplessly, John does too. He likes Stiles. ]
If you don't knock yourself out first. [ Derek's tone is dry, expression neutral before he takes the staff and directs it to where Stiles is holding onto his own. It comes as just as much of a surprise as his initial comment did. ] Slide your hand down.
[ Why yes, he did just give him a pointer, before he spins with far more success and less possible concussions. ]
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Yeah, no, Stiles is dead. He's agreeing.
Laura folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows at her brother. That's unusual, to say the absolute least; if she didn't know better, Laura would say he's interested in this kid. John had picked him for a reason, and it wasn't his fighting skills.
Well, time to put up or shut up.
Stiles, thinking the about same thing, looks at Derek, rocks back and forth, and pushes off his feet, aiming for the ribs. ]
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Considering Stiles almost thoughtfully, despite the overall neutral expression, Derek sees a lot of openings in his stance. Things that could be changed. And he makes note of them, before taking his own stance, at least satisfied that his hold on the staff is better.
But as he comes at him, he moves and brings his own staff around, bringing it down to pin the end of Stiles' into the mat. But he taps the end into the side of Stiles' head, rather than immediately knocking him on his ass. ] Don't go for an opening that leaves you open.
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Derek's helping him, though, and that? That's just weird. Stiles isn't going to let him take time to readjust, not while he can hear the Marshal's slightly smug "one point" in the background. The chances of him winning this are absolutely zero, but he's going to try his damndest anyway. Brown eyes are quick, calculating, and suddenly he uses the force from getting up into his crouch to sweep the pole across Derek's ankles, dropping lower to the ground to get more force behind the push. He's smaller than Derek, lighter, but if he can knock him off his feet, that doesn't matter so much, now does it?
Laura's jaw drops, and she's pretty much glued to the mat, for more reasons than one. Did that--any of that actually just happen? ]
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Cora scoots over a little as John weasels his way through the crowd and slots himself between her and Laura, grinning like a lunatic as she has an identical look to her sister. What.
And then there's the fact that Stiles manages to sweep Derek's feet out from beneath him. He doesn't bother trying to catch himself-- he's not going to windmill-- and it leaves his back hitting the mat with a heavy thud, but at least he keeps his head from bouncing when he lands.
Silence prevails a little longer, broken by a small chorus of holy shit, and then-- ] That was better.
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It's then that the marshal, who'd boredly been staring at his nails, speaks up, and you can just hear the quirk of a grin in his voice-- ] Point.
[ --and Stiles snaps out of it, shock registering in his features because holy shit did that work, before he steps back a little, breaking into an unabashed grin as he tries to move back into the same fighting position, getting his staff ready.
Laura, meanwhile, will just be over here, trying to hide a smile, her hand over her mouth. Things just got interesting. She does lean to John and mumble, "Did you pick him for his fighting skills?" ]
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He's essentially ignoring everyone outside of the mat, including the only remaining members of his family. His attention is, actually, completely and entirely on Stiles as he observes him. ] Again.
[ Cora also chooses to ignore family, letting Laura and John whisper to each other as she tries to assess the researcher, eying him as if it'll tell her all about him. Who the hell is this kid and what is Derek seeing?
"He has absolutely no coordination in the lab," is all John murmurs back to Laura, head bowed in towards her but eyes on his protege and grin still intact. ]
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So this time, he goes low again, solar plexus instead of the ribs, thinking weak spots; any and all skills he has are A) learned from movies or B) learned self defense from his dad. That doesn't mean he's the greatest at applying himself, and he continues to leave himself open--but damn, he's trying, he's picking up, watching Derek move and trying to learn from it.
Laura snorts and mutters, "Most likely none out there, either.", because that had to be dumb luck. Didn't it? There was something weird about this kid, like...like there was a chance that something could happen. If he was less...Stiles about it. ]
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As he comes forward again, he brings his staff around to deflect. But instead of pinning him to the mat like before, he blocks, pushes to redirect, hooks their staffs together and turns. It might seem, at first, that he's trying to force the staff out of Stiles' hands.
Not so. He uses his moment and superior size to pivot Stiles up and over his back so that he lands on the mat.
John winces, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hold in a laugh before a muffled, "Yeah, no, not really," leaves him. But there's something here, because he can see Stiles analyzing, he knows the look. But Derek... Derek is analyzing, too. ]
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But then his entire world is upending, and the next sensation Stiles gets is the wind getting knocked out of him as he's left blinking owlishly at the ceiling. Holy shit, ow.
But what was his advantage last time? Being small. Stiles pushes himself up as quick as he can, and when he rushes at him again, he's looking for weak spots. It doesn't feel like he's fighting; the stilted awkwardness is fading, a little, when he responds to Derek's movements, trying to find his openings.
To say he ends up losing his first match is kind of an understatement. He doesn't stand a chance. At least not yet.
Laura's got her eyes covered by the first one, and she's peeking through them. So much for that... ]
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Well, he sees something different. He sees a spark, and he practically digs his teeth into it rather than letting it go.
The moment that the fourth point is called, he moves to the side of the mat that Stiles came in on, tapping the end of his staff into the padded surface as bare feet pad across. And then he turns, faces Stiles, and brings his staff around in both hands. He doesn't even bother voicing again, just looks at him and raises his brows. Prompting.
Even John's jaw drops a little, actually. Cora's eyes widen, head bobbing just slightly as her eyebrows raise in disbelief. ]
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Stiles is supposed to step down, now. He's supposed to get up with his humiliated ego, slink off, and go back to the lab where he belongs. But when Derek turns to face him, Stiles looks at him with something intense in his amber brown eyes, and pulls himself to his feet.
Round two.
Laura voices it before anyone-a little "yess!" escapes her, and she pumps her first--and Peter rolls his eyes. You're kidding. ]
Derek. [ Comes his voice, anyway. ] While it's touching that you're taking on charity cases, it's time for an actual candidate.
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[ And that's it. Everything is just the two of them again, and he routes all of his focus onto Stiles. He still doesn't move, letting him come forward first for now, ready for him-- this isn't just about seeing a candidate, it's about the potential he already sees, and what he wants to draw out. He makes the first move, he doesn't give Stiles the chance to grow.
Maybe in round three.
John bounces on his feet next to Laura, throwing his fists up in the air excitedly because holy shit. Cora is much more muted, hands covering her mouth as she watches, waiting. ]
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No one should ever say Peter Hale's not a saint.
Stiles' world is pretty much zeroed in on Derek at this point, and he picks up the staff again, testing in his hands. He comes forward with a shout and at him again, finding those weak spots, looking at the next move, the weaknesses Derek presented (there weren't any, really), and most of all, where he could find his advantages. Stiles isn't strong, but he's quick, and he's smart, and the next time he knocks Derek back, he doesn't waste his time celebrating--he does light up, though, and it's obvious. He's getting it. Slowly. And painfully.
Laura is pretty much two steps from whooping, because she can see it. She knows how this is going to end, and the smile on her face shows it as she reaches over and gives John's arm a little shake, like she can't believe it. Derek's going to find a drift partner. ]
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Well, it's almost like Paige was. But there's so much more to it, and whoever Stiles is? There's a similarity, but he's different. Something else.
The researcher manages to get him twice, far better than before, but Derek gets him to the mat a fourth time before he has a chance to up his score. He leaves himself too open on one side, leaves him capable of hooking his staff around his ankle and literally tripping his feet out from underneath him. At least he knows better than to waste time celebrating, because then he wouldn't hesitate to send him face-first into the floor.
When he gets back up again, poised again, John clutches at Laura's arm back and rattles with her. On his other side, Cora has started to bounce a little, herself, mind still blown but. It's been years since Paige, and he's finally fighting again. ]
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It feels less and less like work, even though his body's pounding, his head's aching and he can literally feel everywhere Derek's staff has hit him, every time he's hit the ground, he's still moving. It's practically weaving now--when Derek comes forward, he goes back and forth, under when he goes up, up when Derek goes down, and he keeps clacking their staffs together, defending himself, until they get locked together and he locks eyes with Derek, something fierce in his eyes, something in Derek's face he can't quite measure, before they scatter again.
By the time this is coming around, Laura's got kind of an iron grip on John's arm. Derek could get cold feet at any minute; she's literally holding her breath in anticipation.]
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But when round four comes around, when they're matched at 3-3, because the waif of a boy has caught on and figured out something that works for him, he decides to put a quick end to it. But it's not in cold feet, or to try and shut Stiles down. Far from it, actually.
He sees where Stiles is moving, and moves into the strike, but at the same time brings his staff around to just barely tap it into Stiles' side.
John is actually silent, Cora forgets how to breathe, and Derek stares right back at Stiles, piercing green on bright brown. ] 4-4.
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No one else got an hour, either.
His mouth quirks up into a little grin, and then someone speaks up--Peter, a little drolly. ] Yes, yes, congratulations, it only took all afternoon. Are you done with this game? Because you've got ten more candidates to try out.
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One of them is covered by Cora, actually, who lets out an "oh come on!" from where she's snapped out of her shock. But he just finally pulls his staff away from where they're positioned, slipping it away slow and easy.
He's been at this for the better part of the afternoon, but one hour made it worth the exhaustion. While he's managed to take down everyone that came before Stiles and keep them down, that doesn't mean he hasn't expended a lot of energy doing it. ]
If you want me to see to the rest of them, I can. [ He finally looks away from Stiles and to Peter, using his staff to gesture at the impromptu candidate. ] But I'm not going to pick any of them.
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Still passed a test. Still is going to be a ranger. (Still going to be killed by his dad before he gets there.) Still is going to be a ranger with Derek Hale, because he wasn't fucking crazy, because Derek saw it too.
There was chemistry--dialogue--between them, the kind of thing that can't be replicated. Stiles can't fucking believe his luck, that he somehow managed to not die, that Derek apparently agreed, and he settles for a slightly less excited gesture because holy shit, now everything just hurts.
Laura claps vigorously and Peter stares at them both. Considers it. ]
It's your death wish. [ Then shrugs his shoulders and turns to leave. ]
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But he turns his attention away from him and down to the pile of limbs that Stiles becomes, raising a brow in... what appears to be faint amusement, before he takes his staff and gently taps it on the top of his head before he moves to walk away and off the mat where his boots are. Faint teasing, after that dialogue. Cora is literally going to die from this afternoon, she swears to god. It would just be the final push if her brother smiled.
John does plenty of smiling and lunges into the mat, very nearly colliding with Stiles and-- ] Your father is going to kill you, Jesus fuck that was amazing.
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[ But before he can actually properly celebrate, he quirks kind of a half sheepish grin at John. ] IIiii'm not doing much celebrating yet, I guess.
...Can you help me up? [ His idea of celebrating is actually either sleeping forever or going to find Derek to talk to him about what just happened. Or something. Or maybe not? Stiles isn't even sure what he'd begin to say.
Laura, however, breaks free from John and hurries to her brother's side. She doesn't even say anything; just smiles at him, innocently ("innocently"), and folds her hands behind her back. ]
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